


It Didn't Happen All At Once

by rideswraptors



Series: Before Harry [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Marauders' Era, Remus Lupin makes me feel things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:20:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius asks Remus when he knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Didn't Happen All At Once

                “Rem-my?”

                Oh how Remus _hated_ that nickname. He hated that Sirius had started using it in their fourth year. He hated that it was so obvious how it affected him. He hated that Sirius _knew_ how it affected him. The whole thing was absurd, and Sirius knew if the lads ever figured out that it was his weak point, Remus would never hear the end of it. Sirius Black leading Remus Lupin, werewolf-prefect genius, by the nose because of a _sodding_ nickname.

                They were lying together on the bank of Black Lake. Remus had a book suspended in the air, reading as he lazily stroked Sirius’ hair. Sirius was lying mostly on top of him, face on his middle, arms hugging him and legs tangled. Sirius was feeling sleepy and silly as he watched their friends splash around in the water. James, Pete, and Lily were among the two dozen or so students cooling themselves off. Remus begged off, and they all knew it was because he was self-conscious about his scars. And while Sirius would have liked to get in the water (the canine side of him reveled in the idea), he much preferred cuddling with Moony. Everyone was back from Easter hols and stressing, meaning that Remus was more stressed than most.

                “Yes, Padfoot?” Remus asked in that fondly exasperated tone that Sirius enjoyed provoking. There were certain tones and sighs and laughs and smiles that Sirius eagerly tried to get out of him as often as possible now that they were together.

                “Tell me about when you knew you loved me.” He heard and felt Remus’ chuckle, how it rumbled up from the bottom of his belly. And then he inhaled deeply to release Sirius’ second favorite sigh. Remus was quiet for a moment, picking apart locks of his hair, tugging gently.

                “Which time?” Remus asked in good humor. Excellent. He adored when Moony was in a good mood. They were two weeks past the full moon, the next one wasn’t due for three weeks, and they were in that brief period when Remus was most himself; when he and the wolf were at ease with one another, occupying the same space instead of trying to edge the other out. Sirius turned his head so that his chest rested on Remus’ solar plexus and their gazes could meet.

                “ _All_ of them,” Sirius demanded childishly, like he was a small boy asking for a lengthy bedtime story.

                “I’ve told you all of them before,” Remus argued lightly.

                Sirius ignored this and re-settled himself, nosing into Remus’ belly and tightening his grip around him. “Start at the beginning.”        

                “ _Once upon a time_ ,” Remus mocked exaggeratedly, making Sirius snort loudly and bite at a bit of flesh. Remus tugged his hair. “Well you were far too prattish first year, and I was too busy trying to keep my secret that you might as well have been the bane of my existence.”

                “I was _intrigued_ ,” Sirius grumbled.

                “ _Nosy_ is the more accurate term.”

                “Okay, so when?”

                “Sunday, October 22, 1972, the day of the second full moon of our second year at approximately four o’clock in the afternoon when I was departing for another evening at the Shack.”

                “And what was so special about that day?” Sirius asked dully, even as he picked up Remus’ left hand so that he could finger at the black leather shoe string coiled around his wrist.

                “That was the day the best friends I ever had accepted me for what I was and made me a promise.”

                “What kind of promise?”             

                “The best kind. They promised to do everything in their power to help me, not because I asked or even because I wanted them to, but because they wanted to. They, for whatever daft reason, actually liked being around me and wanted to take care of me.”

                “That’s because you were always taking care of them.” Remus hummed, and Sirius kissed his palm and the string on his wrist. “So,” Sirius continued, “During all that excellent show of friendship, how did you decide that you loved me?”

*

                This was a game that Sirius liked to play; asking silly questions that seemed conceited and attention-seeking as a way to get Remus to talk about his feelings for him. Remus knew, as James and Peter did, that Sirius had not experienced love in his childhood as they had. As if Remus wouldn’t tell him willingly. But Sirius didn’t have parents who said they loved him, who hugged him and told him he had value. During their first year, when they figured out just how awful the Blacks were, the three other Marauders decided to always remind Sirius that he had value to them. Value for things other than his looks and pureblood name. He’d started playing this game with Remus early on in their friendship, sometimes asking Remus to recount Sirius’ triumphant misdeeds. They became more and more personal as their friendship evolved. It didn’t always revolve around these particular stories because some of them were painful too. Sirius must have been in a good mood to bring it up. Remus idly wondered what his boyfriend was playing at as his lips pressed to the string Remus rarely removed from his wrist.

                “Well,” Remus said knowledgeably, “After I told my friends everything I could think of, I still had to spend the night in the Shack alone because they hadn’t figured out how to do something very difficult, dangerous, and illegal yet so they could come with me.”

                “They sound like clever and talented lads.”

                “Reckless miscreants, more like.” Sirius snorted and Remus tangled their fingers together. “But as I was leaving, one of my friends came running after me.”

                Sirius wriggled, “That’s me!”

                “Yes, Padfoot, it was you. You stopped me right in front of the Fat Lady, missing a boot and demanding I give you my hand.” They were both looking at Remus’ wrist, remembering. “You wrapped this shoe string around my wrist and told me it was a reminder of what you’d promised me. A placeholder.”

                “Until we could be with you,” Sirius whispered. Of course, when Sirius replaced the shoe string on his favorite black boots with a bright red one from Peter’s old trainers, this incited a new trend among the male student population until Christmas. No one noticed that the black string on Remus’ wrist matched the one on Sirius’ boot.

                “And right then I knew I loved you. Not like James and Pete, something bigger, but I still didn’t know what it meant.” Remus had treasured that shoe string bracelet, and still did. That particular night, he had gently folded it in his sock before transforming for safekeeping.

                “When did you know what it meant?”

                “When I knew I fancied you or when I knew I was in love with you?”

                “ _Both_ ,” Sirius shot back drolly, making Remus laugh.

                “I couldn’t tell you when I realized that I fancied you, it seems I always have. But I’m sure you remember the day I knew I was in love with you?”

                “Hmm. Hairless Hogwarts Day?”

                “No.”

                “Slytherin Pet Liberation Day?”

                “No.”

                “When I tricked all those Slytherins into going to that Death Day Party and locked them in?”

                “No.”

                “The Great Chocolate Heist?”

                “When Snowmen Attack Day?”

                “Nope.” Sirius kept guessing, labelling days by some of his greatest pranks and accomplishments. Detentions they served together and times they ditched James and Peter were mentioned as well. He still couldn’t guess. “Well Moons, I’m flummoxed. Those were my finest hours.” He actually didn’t know because Remus had never really told him, and Sirius was usually pacified by the story about when Remus had blurted his pathetic feelings out during an argument.

                “Perhaps, but I don’t love you for your finest hours.”

                “Right, just the crappy ones where I’m a tosser.”

                “More like when you make up for them after.”

                “Okay, so when was I so low that Remus decided he was utterly besotted?”

                “Quidditch Cup, fourth year.”

                “ _Oh_ ,” Sirius breathed. Yeah, _oh_ , that had been quite a day. Remus told him the story: April 19, 1975, a perfect Saturday with a hot sun and a cool breeze. Absolutely perfect flying weather. Gryffindor had played Ravenclaw for the Cup. The day started with a vile letter from Sirius’ parents. Andromeda had just gotten engaged to the lovely Ted Tonks, and his grandmother and aunt had blasted her off the family tree and disinherited her. Sirius was told he wasn’t going to see her ever again. Furthermore, his parents were making inquiries and taking steps to ensure his engagement to a pureblooded girl whom he would marry the summer after graduation. He would then take a position at the ministry working for one of his father’s associates. There were to be no more Black family scandals, especially not from Sirius. Enraged, Sirius had flown onto the pitch and played like a madman possessed by the devil himself. His temper and energy had been very obvious and commented on. He played as deliberately and as furiously as he would when executing a well-planned prank.

                The after party in Gryffindor Tower had been obscenely successful. At first it was only Gryffindors, including the younger students. But when eight o’clock rolled around, they were shooed upstairs under threat of hex, and students from other houses were ushered into the common room. Remus had lasted maybe two or three hours among the drinking and eating and dancing and ill-advised fireworks before he couldn’t stomach it and retreated to their dormitory. He’d been a week out from the full moon, so he needed the next day to get ahead on his assignments and revisions. Not to mention, his senses were always at their peak the week of the full, all the noise and proximity to pheromones and body heat grated on his nerves. He’d gone out their window to the narrow balcony which overlooked the grounds. He was alone there for maybe an hour before Sirius had climbed out too.

                 “Oh,” he’d said, startled, “I didn’t know you were out here. Do you want me to..?” He’d gestured to the open window, but Remus had waved him off, insisting that he sit and share a cigarette if he wanted. Sirius did want, and plopped down next to his friend, yet again suspiciously quiet. Remus was content to sit in the silence with him. It was a rarity considering his and James’ boisterous tendencies, but when Sirius needed the quiet, he always found Remus.

                “I’m only sixteen,” Sirius had muttered quietly, taking a drag of the cigarette before passing it back.

                “I know,” Remus had responded sadly. He had known Sirius was talking about the arranged marriage and his parents’ expectation. He had known it as well as he’d known the outcome of his own future: bleak. Sirius might have been the only person in the world to disagree with him. To distract him, Remus did what he usually did: he told Sirius stories about muggles. He told him all kinds of things about his neighbors at home, his mother’s family, about popular culture and politics, things that made Sirius snort with derision, laugh loudly, or ask a hundred questions. Sirius had always liked Remus’ opinions about muggle culture the best, though, and was soon in stitches about Remus’ contempt for most American muggle films. They talked and laughed together for so long that not much time passed before they were leaning into each other, an arm thrown over shoulders, legs crossing the others’, angled towards each other for warmth. Out of the four, Sirius was the most physically affectionate and Remus was the least. This meant that they had learned to meet one another half way, Sirius would patiently wait for Remus to initiate, but he made sure Remus knew he wanted it initiated (usually by inserting himself in his personal space, just out of reach, or by using his lap or back or legs as a pillow). Eventually Remus was worn down to the point that he hardly noticed the casual touches. Which is why neither boy was completely surprised when their discussion had evolved into kissing, a slight turn of their heads and smiles, then lips pressing together.

                “I can’t do this,” Remus had mumbled against Sirius’ lips, which made the boy pull back enough to make eye contact.

                Sirius had nodded, hand cupping the column of his neck, and admitted sadly, “I know.” Then he had tugged him back for another longer and more thorough kiss.

                Neither of them knew that James and Peter, having come up in search of their other half, were watching them from inside. They had, after a moment of permitting themselves to be shocked and outraged, quietly looked at one another, and then promptly left the room.

                What James and Peter had witnessed was never discussed, but they exchanged looks that involved raised eyebrows when Sirius loudly announced that he was dating fifth year, Mary Ann Wyatt just a week later. Their affair was torrid and short-lived; Sirius had three more girlfriends and two more secret flings with boys before they started fifth year.

                *

                In the present, Sirius was only a little sorry for what had happened during that summer, but only because it had hurt Remus and was an utter waste of his time and sanity. He hadn’t handled the rejection well. _Obviously_. But it was odd that Remus would cite that particular incident, their first kiss no less, as the day he knew he was in love, considering the fact that he’d shut Sirius down hard. He said as much to Remus.

                “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

                “It does, love,” Remus murmured. “You were feeling vulnerable and angry and I realized I loved you too much to ask you to make your life more difficult.” Sirius poked him. “Honestly! Look what happened! And that was _without_ a half-blood, werewolf _boyfriend_ in the mix.”

                “True,” Sirius murmured, he kissed Remus’ palm again. That next Christmas, he’d been disinherited himself, beaten and hexed within an inch of his life until he escaped to the Potters’. “I still contend that things would have been much better if we’d been together sooner.”

                “I was trying to protect you.”     

                “And while I appreciate it, I never needed you to do that.” He felt Remus tense up underneath him, felt the way he was trying to control his breathing like Poms had taught him to do.

                “Do you really want to keep talking about this?” he asked quietly. And Sirius knew what he meant. It was a beautiful day. A rare sunny day for that time of the year, everyone was enjoying themselves, Remus was feeling good. Dwelling on all this past bullshit was a quick way to ruin everything. But Sirius pressed on; this story had a happy ending after all.

                “You told me you loved me after Easter.”

                Remus snorted. “I told you I loved you after The Incident.” That’s how the Marauders referred to that godawful day when Prongs and Wormtail decided to seriously meddle in their relationship. Apparently, they’d been scheming over Easter hols. Peter had forged the note. James had taken the Polyjuice. But Remus had seen through their plot pretty quickly once James-as-Sirius approached him. Because James was _James_ and the four of them had lived and pranked together for four and a half years by then. He’d never been so angry at the two of them. Never. They had made their plot without the facts. They thought Remus didn’t know how much Sirius cared; they thought it was _Sirius’_ fault. Angry didn’t quite capture what Remus had felt. And once Sirius found out about it (because Remus made damn well sure that he knew), their joint wrath had started a month long falling out of epic proportions. When Remus or Sirius (or both) weren’t hexing and pranking and generally making James and Peter miserable, they were shouting at each other. About anything and everything they could think of. Then came the last full moon of the term. Peter and James had apologized long, loudly, and profusely, begging Remus to let them come out for his transformation. They knew he was mad, but they didn’t want to break their promise because he was still their best mate. Remus relented and forgave them on the spot. None of the three were at all certain that Sirius would show.

                But he did. After the transformation had happened. He and Sirius had run harder and faster than they ever had before. James struggled to keep up and keep them within the grounds’ borders. When Moony had collapsed into his human form, his friends had hauled him back to the Shack and stayed with him for the rest of the night. Remus woke to find Padfoot’s dog form curled tightly against him. But his change in breathing woke Sirius, who transformed back and relinquished no space between them.

                “I do love you,” Remus had whispered harshly in the quiet of that garish morning light. Sirius had looked so stunned and so small that Remus kissed him, long and hard and thoroughly so that there wasn’t any doubt about it. Nothing had changed, however, they spent all of their time together but weren’t together. But Sirius didn’t date anyone else. He didn’t have flings and one-offs. In fact, he spent most of his free time with the boys. James and Peter finally stopped trying to strong arm them into awkward situations like locked cupboards and drunken embraces, and everything settled down. Until sixth year when Sirius had grossly betrayed his trust. But that, too, was in the past.

*

                Sirius smirked, remembering that before McKinnon had come on the scene, he had made every excuse to touch and hold Remus, to get him alone. And even during McKinnon, he told Remus he loved him at every turn. Others might have thought he was being facetious, joking around with his mate, but Remus knew the truth and that was all that had mattered at the time. He didn’t miss those days, trying to keep up appearances and not make Remus more uncomfortable than he had to. He’d genuinely liked McKinnon too, but after a while, he was going through motions and feigning interest. She’d only gone out with Mulciber the one time before ditching him, which is probably why he’d thirsted for Sirius’ blood the first few months of seventh year.

                Sirius couldn’t give a shit. He was no longer limited to passing touches, to drunken kisses that were never talked about. He didn’t have to endure the looks and the longing that shredded his gut. He didn’t have to watch Dorcas Meadowes hang all over the love of his life. He’d finally won Remus over, convinced him that they were worth the risk and the pain of it. They were stronger together as they always had been RemusandSirius, moon and star, wolf and dog. They were compatible, in sync, a unit that functioned in a pair. It was different with James, in that Sirius and James functioned as a unit of chaos. They plotted and adventured together, they reveled in the aftermath. It was just different with Remus, just as it was different with James and Lily. They were nigh inseparable now, no matter how often Remus and Lily called them boyfriends or wives. Lily preferred to refer to Sirius as James’ mistress. It would have been hilarious if they weren’t serious.

                “That’s a good story,” Sirius sighed, nuzzling against Remus’ shirt.

                “You’re a nutter,” Remus mumbled fondly, “But we do have a pretty good story, don’t we?”

                Sirius smirked, “Epic.”

                “We’ll have to tell it to James’ kid someday.”

                Sirius twisted to look up at the very pensive looking Remus Lupin with a broad smile, “Do you think?”

                “He was writing to Euphemia about rings.”

                “ _No way_. Our Prongsie?”

                “Our Prongsie,” Remus confirmed. Sirius settled back against his boyfriend.

                “That’s gonna be some kid.” He felt Remus’ hum. “And I’ll be his godfather.”

                “Okay. First? Why you? And second? How do you know it will be a boy?”

                “To answer the second question: if Evans pops out a girl, either my lovely self or James will end up in Azkaban for some heinous act of violence against the male population. To answer your first: we have a long-standing wager about his marrying Evans and if he does, the title of godfather to his firstborn belongs to me.”

                “Selfish of you.”

                “I think not! If he gets married, then I will be in desperate need of Prongs Jr. to plot and prank with.”

                “What about me?” Remus demanded, affronted that he was being excluded before the little sprog had even been conceived.

                “ _Obviously_ , you will be there. Someone has to teach the Sprog the useful jinks and hexes and how to charm away the mess. Besides, it was third year when I put this contingency into place, I was not factoring in our co-dependency issues.”

                “I despair of your lack of forethought.”

                “I will endeavor to do better.”

                “See that you do.” Sirius twisted and turned to crawl up his body and kiss him deeply. He dropped his forehead to Remus’ and tried to extend his consciousness beyond that touch so that he could remember every perfect detail of that moment when there was so much hope and possibility. When he felt so much love not only for the man under him, but for the familiar laughter that danced on the wind from behind them.

                Four years later, behind bars in Azakaban, that bright moment would stick out in his memory, one of many, most with Remus, some without, and it would keep him warm in the presence of dementors. It would be the first thought when he saw Remus in the Shack once more, where they had begun, after his escape. It was his last thought before he fell through the Veil. And when Remus, quickly on Tonks’ tail, entered the After Life, they relived it, laughter from their friends and all.

**Author's Note:**

> *Throw self out window*


End file.
